


Want

by aveotardis



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Scene, Demon possession, Episode 1x05, M/M, chapter five: through my most grievous fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8354266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aveotardis/pseuds/aveotardis
Summary: Instead of tempting Tomas with visions of Jessica, the demon decides on an alternate approach: tempt Marcus with Tomas.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Watching the scene from 1x05 I couldn't help but wonder, what if it was Marcus the demon used to tempt Tomas? But after consideration and talking to my bff, I decided it was more likely that the demon would tempt Marcus with visions of Tomas. In the end, I sort of threw both of those ideas in here. I hope you like it! I've been sick the past week and on a lot of cold medicine so I hope this story makes sense. Enjoy!

**Want**

 

The dawn was just beginning to break and it was quiet in the house for once. The demon had not said a word in hours, just stared at the wall with Casey’s eyes. Marcus stared at the monitor as he sipped tea from a porcelain mug. Next to him on the couch Tomas was sleeping, head lulled on the back of the couch, hands limp by his thighs, mouth slightly open.  Marcus stared at him for a moment, maybe longer – maybe too long.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement on the screen. Casey stood now, her back to the camera. She was scratching at the base of her neck hard enough to draw blood. Marcus rolled his eyes. Back to work. He reached a tentative hand out to rouse Tomas, but stopped when the man shifted slightly, leaning closer to Marcus. His eyelids flickered, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed, but he did not fully wake.

It would be a sin to wake him, Marcus thought. He was a vision in sleep, looked even younger than he already did. And God did Marcus want to move into him, feel the warmth, the flesh – soft, he imagined, smooth – to kiss him. Tomas’s mouth was always inviting, but never an invitation. Marcus skimmed the tips of his fingers over Tomas’s cheek. He pulled away and all but ran upstairs to face the demon.

\--

The thing that wore Casey Rance’s flesh stood still, hands by its side. Marcus could see the claw marks where it had itched away flesh. It did not look at him as he walked in, did not acknowledge his presence. He closed the door behind him; the rest of the family was getting what little sleep they could. The thing twitch, its head turning slightly.

“Where’s the other one?” it asked in a deep growl. Marcus did not answer, only began his prayers. “He’s handsome, isn’t he?” It continued, undeterred. Now it turned to him, though did not move closer. Marcus kissed his rosary, prayed louder. “Right up your alley, I’d think.”

“Release this girl,” Marcus commanded with little command to his voice. A sneer was his answer. It began to walk toward him then, chain rattling.

“What about a trade, hm?” it asked, raised an eyebrow. “Give yourself over, Marky.” It came closer still. It was near, too near, within arm’s reach. “You can have whatever you want.”

Marcus closed his eyes so tight it hurt. He prayed. In the darkness behind his eyes he heard a swimming voice – in his head or out loud he could not tell – “you can have him.” He was shaking his head, denying what he wanted, denying the demon.

“Marcus?” his eyes flew open when he heard the voice. Casey was gone, the chain on the floor was gone, light streamed through the unobstructed window; but there was still no furniture in the room, only the dirty mattress against the wall. The door of the room was now open and in its frame stood Tomas.

He wore all black, but no collar. The first few buttons of his shirt were open. His eyes were dark, perhaps darker than usual. As he stepped forward any care Marcus had disappeared. A hand lifted out, fingers skirting his own. Marcus felt his stomach roll.

“Marcus?” Tomas asked again, more worry. Warm skin against his hand, so real.

“No,” Marcus pulled away. “This isn’t real.”

He closed his eyes again, whispered his prayers and pleas.

“Does it need to be?” the voice was closer, hot breath against Marcus’s face. Hands skimmed up his chest, over his pectorals. One snaked around the back of his neck. The other rested at his clavicle, thumb running along his throat. “Open your eyes, Marcus.”

To his own surprise, Marcus obeyed. His breath immediately caught deep in his chest when he found Tomas so close to him. He could make out the faint sprinkle of freckles over his face. The press of his body felt so real, so genuine, so right. He leaned in, chasing Tomas, catching his lips.

They were just as soft and warm as he imagined. His stomach knotted, his heart burned until it felt as though it would char his ribs. Marcus ran his tongue over Tomas’s bottom lip and was meant with no hesitation; that beautiful perfect mouth opened to him. A surge of blood heat rushed to his groin as he thought what else that mouth could do. For now it was enough to have the slide of tongue against tongue, the slick heat of the younger man’s mouth.

Tomas tasted like wine: sweet, worthy of getting drunk on. A hand in his short hair, nails dug into flesh. Warm mouth open to him. He had to touch, to feel. He brought his left hand to Tomas’s face, feeling the soft flesh and the electric brush of stubble. His right hand was on the younger man’s flank, just above his hip. Even through cloth Marcus could make out the defined muscle.

“Do you want to fuck me, Marcus?” Tomas voice was husky, dark, deep, a well in which Marcus hoped to drown. Marcus felt his knees weaken at the prospect. Tomas smoothed his hands over the buttons of Marcus’s shirt and slowly – so fucking slowly – began to unbutton them. Tomas pulled the shirt off, but Marcus grabbed for his hands as he reached for the hem of the wife beater he wore underneath.

“You can have whatever you want,” Tomas said before Marcus could begin his argument. He brought Marcus’s hand to cup over his obvious erection. “I want this, too.” Tomas kissed him, soft. “I need you.”

“No,” Marcus whispered with little conviction. “No, this isn’t real.”

“Does it feel real?” Tomas asked. His lips were bruised and red, his face flushed. “Because it is real.” He landed a kiss just below Marcus’s ear, nibbled at the lobe before whispering, “I want you to fuck me.”

This time Marcus’s knees really did give out. He felt the cold, hard carpet underneath them before he even realized what had happened. Tomas swam over him. A surge of heat rose in Marcus as he watched Tomas’s smart, nimble hands begin to unbuckle his belt. Marcus felt his breath stutter in his chest, catch at the back of his throat.

“Tell me what you want, Marcus,” Tomas said, his voice darker. But the blood pumping in Marcus’s ears drowned out the warning bells in his head.

“Anything,” Marcus mumbled. “Anything you want.”

The grin that spread over Tomas’s face should have been frightening, should have snapped Marcus out of his stupor, but at the same time Tomas was unzipping his fly with careful precision. And Marcus fell, like Lucifer from heaven; down, down down. And found oblivion.

\--

Tomas woke with a start. He was alone on the couch. The rain still tapped against the glass of the window. Thunder rolled in the distance. It took Tomas a moment to remember where he was; he was used to waking up on his own couch. But this was not his home. Realization came to him quickly, a freight train with no track. He looked to the monitor screen and his blood ran cold.

Marcus was on his knees, Casey standing over him, his head cradled in her hands. One movement, one flick, and she could twist his neck. Tomas was on his feet, flying up the stairs. When he got to the door, it would not open. The knob did not turn. He pounded against the door.

“Marcus!”

\--

“What was that?” Marcus asked, hearing an echo bounce through his head. It was a voice he knew.

“Nothing, my love,” Tomas snarled. He knelt down with him, knees touching. Marcus felt such a weight over him. He felt tired.

“Let me in,” he heard two voices saying; one whispered, the other shouted. A crash against his skull, like thunder in his brain. He tried to turn away, but those hands held tight. Fingers through his short hair, lips against his lips, a warmth he had not felt in ages.

“Let me in, Marcus,” Tomas said and kissed him deep.

\--

Tomas looked around frantically. He needed something, anything, to break down the door. But just as he turned to look the door squeaked open; not all the way, just enough. Tomas stopped, looked through the crack into the room. He could see Casey, but not Marcus. Slowly, carefully, he opened the door. Marcus was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” Tomas asked, eyes still skirting around. He crept inside the room, toward the bathroom to search it.

“He’s here, with us,” several voices came from Casey. Somewhere in them he could have sworn he heard Marcus. He stopped, back against the wall.

“What have you done to him?” Tomas reached for his cross. “Let him go.”

“I’m here, darling,” and Marcus was there beside him, sudden and warm, too warm. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, his body facing Tomas. He looked relaxed, but there were dark circles under his eyes; a smile too constrained.

Tomas moved his eyes between Marcus and Casey and back again. A rumble of fear rolled over Tomas, an acrid taste in the back of his mouth.

“We finally found his weakness,” the demon inside Casey said, terrible grin spread across teeth. Marcus reached out and brought one hand to rest at Tomas’s sternum. “You wanna know what it is?”

“No,” Tomas whispered: to himself, to the demon, to Marcus. If it was still Marcus. The hand trailed up to his cheek, turned his face toward Marcus. Their eyes locked. Marcus moved around him until his body pressed him up against the wall. Tomas was reminded of when they first met. Only now Marcus was closer, breathing heavily, pupils dilated.

“It wasn’t his poor murdered mommy,” the thing wearing Casey’s skin moved, hands roved over the wide expanse of Marcus’s back. A thrill of possession made Tomas was to swat her away. “It wasn’t his fucked up childhood.” Marcus leaned in, nose bumping against Tomas’s nose. “It was you.”

“No,” Tomas said again, weak and pleading. Marcus was the strong one; he was the one Tomas leaned on, not the other way around. Hands against skin, sending lightening down his veins. Tomas fought through the haze of lust that threatened to overtake him. “Marcus, wake up.”

“I am awake,” Marcus replied. He kissed the side of Tomas’s mouth. He put his hands on Tomas’s hips and pressed in close, the hard line of his erection pushed against Tomas. “Don’t you want me?”

“No,” Tomas was quick to say, a broken record. Marcus let out a puff of laughter against his jaw. “Yes.”

“Then why fight?” Marcus wondered. He sucked in Tomas’s lower lip, bit down lightly with his teeth.

“This isn’t you,” Tomas argued through the blood rushing away from his brain. Marcus ground against Tomas, friction creating fire that threatened to consume them both. Tomas scraped his fingernails against the wall behind him, balled his hands into fists to keep from touching.

“Marcus, you need to come back to me,” Tomas tried not to sound as wrecked as he felt.

“I am here, I’m with you,” Marcus said, hands roaming all over Tomas, touching everything they could reach. Marcus nipped at his neck. “Fuck, I want you.”

“You can have me,” Tomas tried, “the real you.”

This made Marcus stop his ministrations and lean away from him. Tomas closed his eyes and took a deep inhale. Tomas gently pushed Marcus away, reluctant. He took another breath. With slight hesitation he brought one hand up to slap across Marcus’s face. The man laughed and held his stinging cheek.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” Tomas stared wide-eyed at Marcus before shifting his gaze to Casey, who held the side of her face as though she felt the pain of the slap as well. He grabbed for Marcus, still in a daze.

“Marcus?” Tomas asked with a softer voice. His fingers dug into Marcus’s bare biceps. “Is it you?”

For a moment Marcus stared at him, looked at him up and down, taking his measure before asking, “Is it _you_?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Tomas smiled. A deep laughter sounded from the other side of the room. They both looked toward Casey, feet hovering several inches off the floor, face bursting open with new blisters.

“You’re both so pathetic,” the demon sniggered. Marcus picked up the crucifix and held it aloft in one hand, the other reaching out behind him until he felt Tomas grab it in his hand. “So weak.”

“No, not weak,” Marcus said, squeezing Tomas’s hand. The demon laughed but said nothing. It retreated to the mattress on the floor where it sat and stared at the two men, a soft smile on its face. Marcus turned to Tomas, his free hand going to cup the younger man’s face. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“No, the opposite,” Tomas smiled lightly, indicating the red mark that was beginning to form on Marcus’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Seemed to do the trick,” Marcus retorted. He released his hold on Tomas and stepped away, sending a look toward Casey. She, it, sat and stared and smirked. Tomas watched Marcus, let a hand wrap around his arm, pull him back.

“Are you okay?” Tomas asked in a soft voice. Marcus nodded slowly, turning back to Tomas. Warm dark eyes, not like they were before.

“You’re so beautiful,” Marcus said before he could stop himself. He leaned into Tomas’s space, but stopped when he felt a hand press against his chest.

“Is it really you?” Tomas asked, furrowing his brows together in concern. Marcus let out a soft laugh.

“It’s me, love,” Marcus replied. He fiddled with one of the buttons on Tomas’s shirt. “I should have told you. Where there’s a secret there’s shame.”

“Don’t be ashamed,” Tomas said. His hand glided up until his fingers found Marcus’s pulse point: slow, but strong. A deep laugh sounded from the thing inside Casey. Marcus began to turn toward it, but Tomas would not let him. “We can do this. I know we can. Together.”

Marcus stared into his eyes, found resolve there, determination.  He nodded in agreement. Again he leaned into Tomas and this time the hand on his chest dug in and gave way. Their lips met softly and briefly. Marcus pulled back.

“Together.”


End file.
